Travels, Tribulations, and Triumph
I took last Friday off to go to Germany for the World Games -- specifically to watch ultimate frisbee, as I have friends on the US National Team.
I awoke early in the morning to a clear, sunny sky. I did my normal morning routine, but I did something different this time: I went to the bakery. I have known the joy of a nearby baker since my time in Mali -- every morning I would grab some criossants or pains chocolate and a baguette before catching the soutrama to class. Since learning of my housing in France, I have dreamt of repeating this tradition, but have been stymied by late rising and a lack of local geography. Thursday evening I ventured out and found the bakery in bit of evening perambulations, so I was ready. I set out and walked along, espying the morning sun glancing off Mont Blanc to the east. I got to the bakery at half-past six -- a mere half-hour after it had opened -- and bought a still-warm baguette along with two each of croissants and pains chocolat. Admiring the view and snapping a few pictures, I returned home with a spring in my step and a flaky pastry in my mouth. I set off for the bus stop, pausing only to snap some photos of sunflowers which had just opened. My day was going to be perfect.
An uneventful bus ride to the train station followed, and I purchased a Eurail pass for Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. The pass is a steal. It cost 570 CHF -- or about 370 EUR. The train from Basel to Duisburg, one-way, alone cost 100 EUR. So, my ten-day pass has already paid for itself with only two of ten days gone. Huzzah! More bliss! I hopped on a train to Basel with even more bounce and fresh baked goods primed for the eating. After a slight confusion involving my taking a first-class seat with only a second-class ticket, I found a seat just as comfortable as the one in first-class. I have no idea what the difference was -- perhaps a bit more leg-room, but nothing noticeable.
Gorgeous countryside flew by: sparkling lakes, dappled farmland, stoneworked villages. Simply amazing. People who say Switzerland has supreme beauty aren't lying, and everyone should experience it. I got to Basel and realized I had no idea how to get to Duisburg, as it was not listed on the main itineraries for outbound trains -- the one fault of the Swiss rail system is that it doesn't list international routes in the pocket schedules. I got three maps in a bookstore -- Germany, Switzerland, and Italy -- to help me in my trip visualization. I decided that I should head for Düsseldorf, as I knew it to be near Duisburg. No trains listed Duisburg, so I decided to try for Frankfurt -- assuming a major city would have many transfers to other cities.
While on the train, I realized that Mannheim was a bit more in line with Düsseldorf, so I got off there. In Mannheim, I caught a train to Düsseldorf, and then saw that it went through Frankfurt anyways. Ah well, no harm, no foul. German trains left much to be desired, as I soon found that in addition to being smaller and more cramped, they required reservations for the seats. Though I could sit in a seat, when its owner got on, I had to move. I ended up standing in the connector between the cars with hordes of other people for the last couple hours. It was standing, however, that I found serendipity had played into my hands: the train I was on went straight to Duisburg after Düsseldorf! No need for a transfer, I would just stay on the same train.
Once in Duisburg, I set out to head to the World Games to try and catch the last few matches of the day. The World Games website had been most unhelpful with directions -- as in they were virtually non-existent -- so I found an information booth. They told me there was a train to Sportpark Wedau leaving from Gate 2. I stopped at a store and got a marzipan croissant and a spinach pasty before heading up to the platform. The departure listing for the train didn't list Sportpark Wedau, but I assumed that it normally didn't go there, as the World Games were a special event. Still, I saw a "DU-Wedau" listing and thought it would bring me closer to my goal. I got off the train at "DU-Wedau" to find no buildings and a landscape charitably described as desolate. The sign said "Wedau"; but I was certain that the World Games would have some sort of signage.
I clambered out of the "station" to the road and found myself in a dilemma: I could go left or right, but neither way looked like a "World Games" direction. I chose left in the end as there appeared to be structures in the distance. Serendipity was still with me -- though mockingly as will be seen shortly -- as I soon saw banners for "World Games 2005" attached to the lamp posts. Huzzah! I was close! Fate, it turns out, was merely mocking me, as I was several kilometers from the actual game site. I schlepped along with my backpack, camera bag, and suit blazer: nothing would deter me after nearly 1000 kilometers. I got to the site of the Games and tried to find an entrance. I lucked out in that the first one I got to happened to be close to the Frisbee pitches -- I had, in a bit of awesome foresight, snagged a newspaper with an article on "Flying Disc", so I knew what to call it at the ticket booth. I made my way inside in time to grab a seat for the last match of the day: Canada vs. Australia. I saw some Team USA members and asked if they had any more games. They did not, having gone 3-0 already for the day. Still, the game was a good one, as Australia took the defending champions 15-14 in a hard cap. I learned that the US would have the Australians first thing in the morning.
Now I tasked myself with finding my hostel, at which I had claimed a reservation the day before. Not wanting to trek back to the derelict train stop, I asked for directions on how to get to town. I was told a bus would take care of me, so I set off to find the bus. This proved much more difficult that anticipated. I started walking, but nowhere saw a single bus stop, much less the right one. After walking for about 1 k, I saw the bus I wanted heading in the other direction. Using a bit of brilliant deduction, I realized I had gone too far. Much too far. The stop was, in reality, just outside the gates of the Games, but I had mis-interpreted the distance given to me by the info lady -- and, in my haste, over-looked it. I had my bus and easily found my hostel after being deposited in the grey city of Duisburg. My arrival at the hostel, however, was not before I had stopped for a "kebap" or kebab at a middle-eastern place along the way. For 2.50 EUR, they are a steal. Meat, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and sauce on a large pita-esque bun. Tons of good food for cheap.
I met up with Laura the next morning, and we sallied forth to get to the fields in time for the pull. We had the option of walking or taking the bus; we opted for the bus over the potential for getting lost. I had taken the 934 from the Games the day before, so we looked for that bus. We found the platform and purchased our tickets and waited. And waited. And waited. We saw the 944 come and go, along with the 924. Then we saw the 936 and, again, the 944. We decided to take the 924 simply to get closer to the Games. This worked, as we only needed a quick transfer by bus to the Games. Sadly, our prolonged wait at the station caused us to miss the start, but we arrived only a point or two into the match.
We saw five matches on Saturday and met up with our friends on the US squad. For more details, check out my write-ups. The best part was winning a throwing contest and a guessing contest -- both of which garnered swag. Our ride back discovered a different train stop "DU-Schlenk" much closer to the games and on the bus line. I made a note to myself to use it the next day when I left. Laura and I parted, as she had to catch a flight to London in Düsseldorf. The next day brought success, as I made it to the fields with no difficulty. I watched the best games of the weekend, including a gold medal victory by the US. Elated, I made my way to the bus line.
Readers with delicate dispositions easily put off their feed by tales of outrage should stop here.
I had timed my coming to the games including waits for transfers and the walk to the fields. 33 minutes. I gave myself 35 minutes when I left, and would be returning by train, which -- I knew, having ridden the day before -- was faster than the bus. I got to the bus stop with time to spare for the next departure. We approached the stop for the train platform; seeing a crowd waiting there, I readied myself for departure. Then I watched in dismay as the bus sped past the stop. I frantically pressed the stop button to no avail. I watched the stop fade in the distance. I cinched my belt, checked my belongings, and made my way to the exit, determined to run to the next stop. Weighed down by prize booty and a large backpack, I duck-sprinted to the train station to find no train in sight. Checking the schedule, I saw that a 17:08 train arrived in Duisburg at 17:11; my train left at 17:12, thus being catchable. Sadly, the train was slightly late and slightly slow. I sprinted out the door, down the stairs, over seven gates, up the stairs, only to see my train close its doors and pull out. I was literally seconds late. If the bus had dropped me off at the train stop, I would have gained at least seven minutes and made the earlier train to Duisburg.
Sadly, my schedule had been based on spending as much time as possible in Duisburg to see as much of the finals as possible. My connection in Basel was the last one to Geneva -- somehow I would have to make it there. I found the next express train to Düsseldorf, which left at 17:54. Okay, time to regroup. The Basel train left at 22:00 for Geneva. I just had to make it to Basel in four hours. Not an impossible task. I boarded the crowded train with hope in my heart. Learning from the Amazing Race, I found a map on the train and planned ahead. Köln, it turned out, was more of a hub than Düsseldorf, and it was down the line from Düsseldorf on the same train I was on. From Köln, I was sure I could catch a train to Basel. It is surprising how agitated one can become when in a hurry. I found myself cursing how often a so-called "regional express" train could stop and still call itself "express". I cursed every po-dunk town between Düsseldorf and Köln.
From Köln, I found a rare train to Basel, but with bad news: it arrived just before 23:00, far past the 22:00 deadline. I had two options: head to Basel and spend the night there, or stay the night in Köln. Basel was closer to my destination, but the next train wouldn't be until the next day, forcing me to use another day on my rail pass. Until now, a silver lining had been that no one had checked my ticket, meaning I could use my second day out of ten the following day and save some face that way. However, after seeing that I would arrive in Basel and then Geneva much later in the day -- thus missing some work -- I decided to cut my losses and head to Basel. Fortunately, I was able to sleep a little bit on the train and arrived in Basel a little refreshed -- though down a day. I arrived in Basel to find that, while there was no train to Geneva at that hour, there was on to Bern. I decided to continue on, trying to get as close to my destination as possible. Also, my trip the next day would have a transfer in Bern anyways -- so why not do that leg now?
Arriving in Bern just after midnight, I spent my first night in a train station. I have now spent the night in an airport in Senegal and a train station in Switzerland. Fearing that if I slept my belongings might be stolen, or worse that I would miss my train, I stayed up updating my website and reading Harry Potter. In the morning, I bought some water, as I'd only had a pint the previous day -- water at the Games was 3 EUR for a small cup of mineral water, a seriously bad deal -- which I'd providently snagged from the spigot at the hostel. I also ate some of the food I packed at the hostel: nutella on roll and brie/German SPAM equivalent on roll. I slept more on the train and arrived in Geneva to discover something wonderful: they hadn't checked my ticket. I quickly scurried off the bus -- forgoing my plan to take the train to the airport, which is closer to my house, but has fewer busses servicing it. From here, it was an easy bus ride and walk back to my house. I showered and ate, finishing in time to catch a ride with my housemate to CERN for work.
So, I ended up with over 24 hours of actual time on the road in a 72 hour period. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Friends are worth any price. Was it annoying as hell? Yes, yes it was. What I don't get is how, for all their alleged efficiency, the Germans can't make an intuitive transportation system that operates without delays or hassles. I've been on transportation systems on four continents, and the closest I've seen to this kind of trouble was in Mali, but even that wasn't bad once you figured out how it worked. It's a train system. Similar to the one they have in Switzerland, England, Belgium, Luxembourg, or Holland, why does it have to not work, when the others work so wonderfully? Okay, the British one had issues, but there was flooding when I was there -- the worst in a hundred years -- so they had an excuse. The Germans had none. I'm still waiting for an answer...
I awoke early in the morning to a clear, sunny sky. I did my normal morning routine, but I did something different this time: I went to the bakery. I have known the joy of a nearby baker since my time in Mali -- every morning I would grab some criossants or pains chocolate and a baguette before catching the soutrama to class. Since learning of my housing in France, I have dreamt of repeating this tradition, but have been stymied by late rising and a lack of local geography. Thursday evening I ventured out and found the bakery in bit of evening perambulations, so I was ready. I set out and walked along, espying the morning sun glancing off Mont Blanc to the east. I got to the bakery at half-past six -- a mere half-hour after it had opened -- and bought a still-warm baguette along with two each of croissants and pains chocolat. Admiring the view and snapping a few pictures, I returned home with a spring in my step and a flaky pastry in my mouth. I set off for the bus stop, pausing only to snap some photos of sunflowers which had just opened. My day was going to be perfect.
An uneventful bus ride to the train station followed, and I purchased a Eurail pass for Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. The pass is a steal. It cost 570 CHF -- or about 370 EUR. The train from Basel to Duisburg, one-way, alone cost 100 EUR. So, my ten-day pass has already paid for itself with only two of ten days gone. Huzzah! More bliss! I hopped on a train to Basel with even more bounce and fresh baked goods primed for the eating. After a slight confusion involving my taking a first-class seat with only a second-class ticket, I found a seat just as comfortable as the one in first-class. I have no idea what the difference was -- perhaps a bit more leg-room, but nothing noticeable.
Gorgeous countryside flew by: sparkling lakes, dappled farmland, stoneworked villages. Simply amazing. People who say Switzerland has supreme beauty aren't lying, and everyone should experience it. I got to Basel and realized I had no idea how to get to Duisburg, as it was not listed on the main itineraries for outbound trains -- the one fault of the Swiss rail system is that it doesn't list international routes in the pocket schedules. I got three maps in a bookstore -- Germany, Switzerland, and Italy -- to help me in my trip visualization. I decided that I should head for Düsseldorf, as I knew it to be near Duisburg. No trains listed Duisburg, so I decided to try for Frankfurt -- assuming a major city would have many transfers to other cities.
While on the train, I realized that Mannheim was a bit more in line with Düsseldorf, so I got off there. In Mannheim, I caught a train to Düsseldorf, and then saw that it went through Frankfurt anyways. Ah well, no harm, no foul. German trains left much to be desired, as I soon found that in addition to being smaller and more cramped, they required reservations for the seats. Though I could sit in a seat, when its owner got on, I had to move. I ended up standing in the connector between the cars with hordes of other people for the last couple hours. It was standing, however, that I found serendipity had played into my hands: the train I was on went straight to Duisburg after Düsseldorf! No need for a transfer, I would just stay on the same train.
Once in Duisburg, I set out to head to the World Games to try and catch the last few matches of the day. The World Games website had been most unhelpful with directions -- as in they were virtually non-existent -- so I found an information booth. They told me there was a train to Sportpark Wedau leaving from Gate 2. I stopped at a store and got a marzipan croissant and a spinach pasty before heading up to the platform. The departure listing for the train didn't list Sportpark Wedau, but I assumed that it normally didn't go there, as the World Games were a special event. Still, I saw a "DU-Wedau" listing and thought it would bring me closer to my goal. I got off the train at "DU-Wedau" to find no buildings and a landscape charitably described as desolate. The sign said "Wedau"; but I was certain that the World Games would have some sort of signage.
I clambered out of the "station" to the road and found myself in a dilemma: I could go left or right, but neither way looked like a "World Games" direction. I chose left in the end as there appeared to be structures in the distance. Serendipity was still with me -- though mockingly as will be seen shortly -- as I soon saw banners for "World Games 2005" attached to the lamp posts. Huzzah! I was close! Fate, it turns out, was merely mocking me, as I was several kilometers from the actual game site. I schlepped along with my backpack, camera bag, and suit blazer: nothing would deter me after nearly 1000 kilometers. I got to the site of the Games and tried to find an entrance. I lucked out in that the first one I got to happened to be close to the Frisbee pitches -- I had, in a bit of awesome foresight, snagged a newspaper with an article on "Flying Disc", so I knew what to call it at the ticket booth. I made my way inside in time to grab a seat for the last match of the day: Canada vs. Australia. I saw some Team USA members and asked if they had any more games. They did not, having gone 3-0 already for the day. Still, the game was a good one, as Australia took the defending champions 15-14 in a hard cap. I learned that the US would have the Australians first thing in the morning.
Now I tasked myself with finding my hostel, at which I had claimed a reservation the day before. Not wanting to trek back to the derelict train stop, I asked for directions on how to get to town. I was told a bus would take care of me, so I set off to find the bus. This proved much more difficult that anticipated. I started walking, but nowhere saw a single bus stop, much less the right one. After walking for about 1 k, I saw the bus I wanted heading in the other direction. Using a bit of brilliant deduction, I realized I had gone too far. Much too far. The stop was, in reality, just outside the gates of the Games, but I had mis-interpreted the distance given to me by the info lady -- and, in my haste, over-looked it. I had my bus and easily found my hostel after being deposited in the grey city of Duisburg. My arrival at the hostel, however, was not before I had stopped for a "kebap" or kebab at a middle-eastern place along the way. For 2.50 EUR, they are a steal. Meat, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and sauce on a large pita-esque bun. Tons of good food for cheap.
I met up with Laura the next morning, and we sallied forth to get to the fields in time for the pull. We had the option of walking or taking the bus; we opted for the bus over the potential for getting lost. I had taken the 934 from the Games the day before, so we looked for that bus. We found the platform and purchased our tickets and waited. And waited. And waited. We saw the 944 come and go, along with the 924. Then we saw the 936 and, again, the 944. We decided to take the 924 simply to get closer to the Games. This worked, as we only needed a quick transfer by bus to the Games. Sadly, our prolonged wait at the station caused us to miss the start, but we arrived only a point or two into the match.
We saw five matches on Saturday and met up with our friends on the US squad. For more details, check out my write-ups. The best part was winning a throwing contest and a guessing contest -- both of which garnered swag. Our ride back discovered a different train stop "DU-Schlenk" much closer to the games and on the bus line. I made a note to myself to use it the next day when I left. Laura and I parted, as she had to catch a flight to London in Düsseldorf. The next day brought success, as I made it to the fields with no difficulty. I watched the best games of the weekend, including a gold medal victory by the US. Elated, I made my way to the bus line.
Readers with delicate dispositions easily put off their feed by tales of outrage should stop here.
I had timed my coming to the games including waits for transfers and the walk to the fields. 33 minutes. I gave myself 35 minutes when I left, and would be returning by train, which -- I knew, having ridden the day before -- was faster than the bus. I got to the bus stop with time to spare for the next departure. We approached the stop for the train platform; seeing a crowd waiting there, I readied myself for departure. Then I watched in dismay as the bus sped past the stop. I frantically pressed the stop button to no avail. I watched the stop fade in the distance. I cinched my belt, checked my belongings, and made my way to the exit, determined to run to the next stop. Weighed down by prize booty and a large backpack, I duck-sprinted to the train station to find no train in sight. Checking the schedule, I saw that a 17:08 train arrived in Duisburg at 17:11; my train left at 17:12, thus being catchable. Sadly, the train was slightly late and slightly slow. I sprinted out the door, down the stairs, over seven gates, up the stairs, only to see my train close its doors and pull out. I was literally seconds late. If the bus had dropped me off at the train stop, I would have gained at least seven minutes and made the earlier train to Duisburg.
Sadly, my schedule had been based on spending as much time as possible in Duisburg to see as much of the finals as possible. My connection in Basel was the last one to Geneva -- somehow I would have to make it there. I found the next express train to Düsseldorf, which left at 17:54. Okay, time to regroup. The Basel train left at 22:00 for Geneva. I just had to make it to Basel in four hours. Not an impossible task. I boarded the crowded train with hope in my heart. Learning from the Amazing Race, I found a map on the train and planned ahead. Köln, it turned out, was more of a hub than Düsseldorf, and it was down the line from Düsseldorf on the same train I was on. From Köln, I was sure I could catch a train to Basel. It is surprising how agitated one can become when in a hurry. I found myself cursing how often a so-called "regional express" train could stop and still call itself "express". I cursed every po-dunk town between Düsseldorf and Köln.
From Köln, I found a rare train to Basel, but with bad news: it arrived just before 23:00, far past the 22:00 deadline. I had two options: head to Basel and spend the night there, or stay the night in Köln. Basel was closer to my destination, but the next train wouldn't be until the next day, forcing me to use another day on my rail pass. Until now, a silver lining had been that no one had checked my ticket, meaning I could use my second day out of ten the following day and save some face that way. However, after seeing that I would arrive in Basel and then Geneva much later in the day -- thus missing some work -- I decided to cut my losses and head to Basel. Fortunately, I was able to sleep a little bit on the train and arrived in Basel a little refreshed -- though down a day. I arrived in Basel to find that, while there was no train to Geneva at that hour, there was on to Bern. I decided to continue on, trying to get as close to my destination as possible. Also, my trip the next day would have a transfer in Bern anyways -- so why not do that leg now?
Arriving in Bern just after midnight, I spent my first night in a train station. I have now spent the night in an airport in Senegal and a train station in Switzerland. Fearing that if I slept my belongings might be stolen, or worse that I would miss my train, I stayed up updating my website and reading Harry Potter. In the morning, I bought some water, as I'd only had a pint the previous day -- water at the Games was 3 EUR for a small cup of mineral water, a seriously bad deal -- which I'd providently snagged from the spigot at the hostel. I also ate some of the food I packed at the hostel: nutella on roll and brie/German SPAM equivalent on roll. I slept more on the train and arrived in Geneva to discover something wonderful: they hadn't checked my ticket. I quickly scurried off the bus -- forgoing my plan to take the train to the airport, which is closer to my house, but has fewer busses servicing it. From here, it was an easy bus ride and walk back to my house. I showered and ate, finishing in time to catch a ride with my housemate to CERN for work.
So, I ended up with over 24 hours of actual time on the road in a 72 hour period. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Friends are worth any price. Was it annoying as hell? Yes, yes it was. What I don't get is how, for all their alleged efficiency, the Germans can't make an intuitive transportation system that operates without delays or hassles. I've been on transportation systems on four continents, and the closest I've seen to this kind of trouble was in Mali, but even that wasn't bad once you figured out how it worked. It's a train system. Similar to the one they have in Switzerland, England, Belgium, Luxembourg, or Holland, why does it have to not work, when the others work so wonderfully? Okay, the British one had issues, but there was flooding when I was there -- the worst in a hundred years -- so they had an excuse. The Germans had none. I'm still waiting for an answer...